Chapter 1: Enter Xantheaa
I'm almost at my wit's end. The goddesses as my witness, I often fear that I am incapable of retaining my sanity, given all the things I now know. Every night, I have the same dream. The same horrible, agonizing, monotonous dream—Such drudgery, and emptiness! It cannot be natural, for my creator Elektra would never permit such loathsome circumstance to befall her most loyal servant!
Often, I feel like I have been negligent in my duties. I must be getting punished for failing the gods, otherwise it does not make sense! They are infallible, and they always have been.
Their rule is just and there is much peace and prosperity in the lands; my heart bursts with praise and exultation whenever I think of the eternal blessings that I have been granted every day.
My feathers shine with ample brilliance; auburn and chestnut and burgundy plumage shining brightly from my deliberate maintenance as is my calling—to transmit the eloquence and illimitable glory of my resident deity's domain!
Is that not what I have been called to do? Is that not the very reason that I was created for?!
I have doubled my efforts daily. I play my lyre at every chance I get, and even venture to the very borders of our territory so that the humankind might appreciate my blessings more completely.
Why is it that nothing changes? What ever could I have done to incur the wrath deserving of such brutal and inconsolable rebuke?
As long as I can remember, I was always the most laudable subject of my brood.
I have always striven to be as beautiful as the rain, as sharp and decisive as the lightning strike, as imposing as the tempest gale which is my patron's domain.
Yet, through all my reflection, I can find no neglect. I see no fault. I know no sin, but of that which may be beyond me.
The only explanation has to be within my fault. It must be! I must double my efforts in praise.
All of the sisters in my nest speak of nothing but fields of endless blossoms, and free-flowing waters. I feel very much ashamed to speak of such troubling visions.
May Typhon forgive me for my transgressions, and reveal to me the source of this great wound, that I may repent and have my unconsciousness mended!
At any length, I suppose I should introduce myself; although I'm not sure who else in their right mind would dare to be reading this account, since its contents are to be EXTREMELY PERSONAL, and not to mention somewhat discursive.
I only started writing this journal at the suggestion of the head of my brood, after all. She insisted that it might be beneficial to get all of my thoughts out on paper, though I can almost assure you that she was simply more likely sick to death of tolerating my constant requests for guidance, herself. I don't understand why it's so hard to get a straight answer these days!
Anyway, my name is Xantheaa, and as you might have guessed from where you found this text buried deep in the mountainous cliffs of Strofades, where only the harpies and the terrible gorgons abide, I am one of their kind.
My Goddess Elektra and the wrathful god of the fiery depths, Typhon our father, created our race to guide the sleeping hearts of men into their eternal embrace through our song.
Through this practice, there is wont for nothing among our ranks. Ambrosia and figs abound year round upon our mountain peaks.
Of course it is so! It is with such energy and power that we find use of the wings that she gave us!
Why would she ever leave us on a land that could not allow us to express the full glory of her craftsmanship? Again, it is only by the goddess's will that we even persist, let alone thrive! I feel eternally indebted to her!
So, why do my days continue without rest? I toss and turn at night, as I explore the barren towers of grass and stone.
The utter solitude that overcomes me every time I close my eyes is too much to bear. A harpy cannot live without her brood! We cannot breathe without the sound of our sisters' beating feathers carried upon the winds! ...and yet, the feeling I have is such an eternal, mournful emptiness that tells me that I have been alone for years and scores of years—maybe even centuries!
It's an unfathomable loneliness that my sisters continuously struggle to even fathom.
To be fair, I may lack the words to express the depth of sorrow that pervades this place. In truth, if I had not experienced it myself, I cannot be certain that I would be able to comprehend it.
It is in such opposition to my entire way of life—my very being!—that the first few times I had dreamed, I wanted to reject the concept entirely. It cannot be! It SHOULD not be!
Yet, it is.
I am reminded of its truth every night; its inescapable, suffocating coldness. I thought that if I pushed it away, and shut it out of my memories, that it would fade with time.
I hoped that denying its presence would grant me some reprieve... that only made it worse.
Eventually I have come to admit to myself that it must be true. I cannot hide from the terror, that only gives it strength to trouble me upon its eventual return.
I will not let this torment become my destruction.
I love my goddess! I love my world, and I love my sisters, and I love even the humans whom they show much favor towards.
For, if the gods love them, then my love which is in their service is already forespoken!
I don't care how long it takes to prove, but I will not be moved by the trials of Persephone, or distracted by the wiles of Thanatos.
Hypnos will kneel before the might of my faith.
Even Typhon himself, will tremble.
At the end, when my faith is sure, and the rest of the world crumbles, all will see how much greater Elektra is above the entire pantheon; for none can rival her most loyal servant. This I swear!